


Force of Nature

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Anonymous requested, “Dolls and Wynonna are on vacation and he casually starts speaking fluently in that language and Wynonna is impressed and needs to know what other skills he’s been keeping to himself. In season 1 Lucado hints that Dolls speaks Swedish so I assume he must know a bunch more.”
Relationships: Xavier Dolls/Wynonna Earp
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Force of Nature

Wynonna almost doesn’t notice it at first. Key word,  _ almost.  _ The moment she does, however, she’s about two feet shy of slipping and stumbling back into the swimming pool behind her, drenching her just-dried hair and wasting the eight dollar margarita dripping sugar-slick condensation onto the back of her hand. 

Of course, if she’d done this, she would have blamed it on the kids sprinting by, each one flicking her with an equal amount of Speedo sweat and chlorine as they pass. Maybe she’d even hunt down their parents and threaten to sue them; at least demand they hand over a few bucks for a new drink, one with a salt rim instead. Wynonna really doesn’t know how she and Dolls ended up at a resort with so many goddamn prepubescent children running around, especially when she’s sure she must have asked him a hundred times to book the eighteen plus one. 

No matter, though, because Wynonna’s thinking of other things, specifically the thing that she  doesn’t know how she could have ever missed in the first place. 

Dolls’ voice. It oozes like honey out of his mouth, each word a little curved, simultaneously smooth and clunky in a way that’s remarkably satisfying. He doesn’t see her, too busy talking to the employee with a gentle grin and flashes of teeth with every enunciated vowel, and Wynonna, the simple woman that she is, finds herself rendered immobile. Tethered to the spot like an anchor in the waves, she can’t stop watching him, can’t stop listening to him, can’t stop staring like she did when he first stepped out of the cabana in tight-fitting swim trunks that she was so sure he’d never be caught dead wearing. He’s full of surprises this week, apparently. 

“Ready to go?” he asks her once he’s gotten what he needed from the staff— Wynonna can’t remember what they were there for in the first place: extra towels? A new hotel key since  _ he _ was the one to lose his first, not her, and that was the whole reason she got this drink in her hand right now anyway, thanks to a bet that she was honestly certain she wasn’t going to win. 

Dolls’s palm nudges at her back, a cool bottle pressing against her skin, and oh, yeah. Extra sunscreen. Right. 

Wynonna just looks at him, gapes at him like she’s reading him for clues. “What was  _ that?” _

“SPF 45, it’s all they had.” He holds up the bottle and Wynonna, incredulous, has half an urge to swat it out of his hand, knock it at a sunburned mom behind them, too busy on her cell phone to notice the chaos the various heathens presumably belonging to her are causing in the immediate area. 

“No, Xavier, that language.” 

“Oh.” Dolls nods like he’d forgotten this was something he’d even engaged in, like the way he just switched dialects wasn’t as impressive as the way he’d managed to book them an affordable flight from Calgary International to Queen Beatrix a mere two weeks before the trip.

“So?” Wynonna feels a bit like one of the kids swarming her now, giddy and excitable and almost hopping before him. The ground is hot too, an equally probable cause to her jitters, but Wynonna won’t mention that aloud, not when Dolls had specifically advised her to not leave her flip flops by the beach. She won’t let him win that bet, even if there’s no money on the table.

“What language was that?” 

“Dutch. Aruba is a constituent country of the Netherlands, did you know?”

Wynonna fights to roll her eyes. “The tour guide told us a million times. But I didn’t think anyone would actually speak Dutch here.” A pause, and then, “you know Swedish too, right?”

Dolls nods, steals a sip of her drink, then makes a face. 

“Too much lemon, I know,” Wynonna sighs. “But seriously, you know three languages?! You’re like Google Translate. Or the Duolingo owl, and equally as threatening when you want to be.”

They dodge another group of people, college students this time, probably not yet twenty one. Wynonna tightens her grip on her drink as Dolls reaches out an arm to steady her, pull her close.

“Six, actually,” he replies like it’s nothing. His hand trips up her spine, dotting sunscreen across her freckles. “Dutch, Swedish, Spanish, French, and Swahili. And English, of course.”

Wynonna audibly gasps, then gives him that look again : half-surprised, because who forgets to mention that they speak so many languages, and in turn, have so many travel stories to share; but half-unsurprised too, because of course Dolls doesn’t find things like these noteworthy .

“What else you been hiding from me, boss?” Wynonna asks, though it’s been almost a full two years since he’s resigned his role as her boss and slipped fully into a role she finds that she enjoys far more.

“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll show you,” he replies. He says it lowly, a slight nudge to her side setting her into motion, and that’s all he has to say — she’s nearly in a sprint before he can even catch his breath, a shit-eating grin taking up most of the space on both of their faces. 

_ “Je bent een natuurkracht,”  _ he calls, following along anyway, and she’s too far gone to hear him, much less to ask what that even means.

**Author's Note:**

> "Je bent een natuurkracht" = you are a force of nature. (Just in case you couldn't figure that out.)
> 
> Come talk to me about how Wyndolls deserved better at my Tumblr blog [here](https://sweeterthankarma.tumblr.com/) or at my new Twitter account [here](https://twitter.com/sweeterthnkarma).


End file.
